


fighting isn't a crime (not winning is)

by MythicalCypressWater



Category: Jurassic World Trilogy (Movies)
Genre: Barry is a good bro, Owen Grady Loves the Raptor Squad, Owen Grady Speaks Raptor, Owen Grady is Crazy, Possessive Raptor Squad (Jurassic Park), Raptor Parent Owen Grady, Raptor Puppy Piles (Jurassic Park), Raptor Squad, Raptor Training (Jurassic Park), The Author is Trying, The author cannot tag, Vic Hoskins Sucks, barry is a good friend, might add more tags/characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:00:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28438770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MythicalCypressWater/pseuds/MythicalCypressWater
Summary: Owen Grady was far closer to his raptors than he led others (*cough* *cough* InGen A.K.A. Hoskins) to believe.When he said he imprinted on them as infants, he wasn't lying. They formed a bond, mental and physical, between man and beasts that age never erased.And they were doing just fine. They were happy as a little pack with a strange but spectacular alpha.Until Hoskins saw Owen and the raptors getting along wonderfully and does what he always does.Fucks shit up.
Relationships: Owen Grady and Claire Dearing Friendship, Owen Grady and the Raptor Squad
Comments: 26
Kudos: 81





	1. it was a normal day as long as you ignore the fact that it wasn't

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE READ
> 
> Hello, lovelies! Yes, I am writing another Owen Grady fanfic because he's one of my comfort characters apparently, and I've been wanting to write for-fucking-ever, and this is the only fandom I can do that in for whatever reason. I'm pretty sure like three people are gonna read this, but that's fine.
> 
> Here's the part I needed ya'll to hear. I will NEVER abandon a fanfic or leave for like six months and come back like 'sup bitches lol', but I will also never have a posting schedule. I have school, and I go to my dad's every other weekend, and half of the time my writing becomes really fucking shitty because I stop enjoying writing, and the chapters get short and plotless. So. I might take time before I update again, but please just be patient with me because I WILL post again and not in five years.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy! :)

Claire Dearing, director of Jurassic World, walked briskly toward Du Mon Cafe, phone clutched in her right hand and a manila folder in her left. Her meeting, scheduled by her lovely assistant Zara, with the park's senior handler was supposed to begin five minutes ago, and she was still bustling through overeager crowds. 

When Claire finally spotted Josie sitting at a table, she breathed a sigh of relief and made her way over. "Thank you for agreeing to meet with me today. I am _so_ unbelievably sorry for the hold up."

"Oh, it's no problem," the Spinosaurus handler answered, slouched in her seat and appearing blissfully relaxed. "I would have ordered you something, but I was pretty sure I'd get it wrong. I've seen that assistant of yours fetching your coffee," she raised her eyebrows with an incredulous look and whistled through her teeth, "Doesn't seem easy."

Claire laughed, polite and contained but genuinely amused, as she settled into her seat, nimble hands pulling at her ink-hued pencil skirt. "Oh, Zara's a blessing; that's for sure."

Josie waited kindly for Claire to order herself a beverage before she sprung a question, but her muddled, blue eyes watched with scrutiny, and her tawny eyebrows were furrowed in concentration.

"So, what was it you needed to speak with me about?"

Claire's tongue darted out to lick her crimson-stained lips, and her ice blue eyes found interest in the intricate table design if only for a moment.

"Do you- do you know much about Mr. Grady?"

"You mean Owen?"

Claire nodded quickly and did not falter beneath the dissection of Josie's eyes. To her credit, the handler merely studied her a moment or so longer before shrugging, gaze finding purchase in a group of squealing children. 

"Yeah, I know him. Why?"

It swerved left and completely dodged Claire's question, and the director had to remind herself not to become irritated with the elusion; it was, after all, Josie's job to watch over and take care of the other handlers' and trainers' concerns. That included protecting them if the higher-ups, such as Claire herself, were poking around in their business.

"He's not in trouble," Claire was quick to inform, "Mr. Grady is just..."

"Strange?" Josie supplied, finger lifting from where it precariously hung in the air. 

Claire swallowed and nodded. "So. Do you know much about him?"

"Owen's elusive. He'd rather spend more time with those raptors of his than any human." Josie laughed then and her head tipped back with dim amusement as mirth filled her eyes. "We've always joked he would become one of 'em if he didn't get away from that stupid paddock at some point. Barry- you know Barry?- is basically the only one who can ever convince him to leave his girls. Especially when things get bad."

"Get... bad?"

Josie nodded and sniffed like she was not sure that she should let loose her next few words. Her murky eyes once again landed somewhere off in the distance; this time it was on the Mosasaur display which was disturbingly close to the Du Mon Cafe. 

"We've- some of the other handlers and I- have always suspected Owen had PTSD."

Claire gaped like a fish, ready to spit out _something_ when the Spinosaurus handler rushed to inform her, "He's a good guy, Claire. Real good. He's funny, and charismatic, and _smooth_ , but there's just so many signs of something not being right. I don't know. He came straight out of the NAVY, and he was there for what? A decade? It's not unlikely."

The director struggled to speak for a long time, and when words finally graced her lips, they fell out like molasses. "No. It's not. Just... besides from possible and probable mental health issues, is there anything else you know about Mr. Grady?"

"Well, shit, Claire," Josie laughed breathily, face full of exasperation. "I mean, he's really good with animals. Like really fucking good. They're all just... attracted to him or some shit. Like in some crappy movie."

Claire winced in the form of an apology the moment the handler began speaking, but she listened dutifully as the seemingly useless information poured into her earring adorned ears. The director's face lit up up in concerned surprise as Josie shot out of her chair with a curse and checked her military-grade watch. 

"Damn it. Okay, Claire; sorry 'bout this, but I have to go. Maura has a feeding, and I'll be late if I don't start heading over there. See you around, yeah?" 

Claire nodded, unsatisfied with her newfound discoveries, and smiled thinly. "Of course. Thank you for your time."

Josie inclined her head and disappeared into the crowd like she had never existed.

* * *

Owen Grady's feet made true of the phrase 'silent as the grave' as he padded his way to the keypad of the raptor paddock's inner gate. Exhaustion pulled at his bones, and an uncommon breeze flitted through his auburn hair, yet Owen felt a shock of relief deep inside of himself. 

All of the other interns and assistant handlers left right on the dot at 6:00 P.M., and Owen had only just convinced Barry to leave ten minutes ago with the full-fledged promise of locking up. Excited to finally see his girls for real, Owen raised the gate and stepped into the paddock.

(No, this did not count as turning his back on the cage because the cage never existed for Owen. It was just him and his girls and nothing else.)

Blue, his beta, greeted him with nuzzles and guttural purring, and his other girls raced in secondly to coddle him (scent marking because Owen was theirs, and he had been away for too long) before they drifted away, snapping at each other playfully and rolling in the carefully kept, moist soil that made up the enclosure's floor. 

Blue settled into the dirt, nostrils huffing hot air that pushed away dust, and Owen sat down right beside her, cautiously leaning backwards against her to see if she would tolerate it. His beta chittered at him, her imitation of his laugh, and the alpha rolled his eyes, calloused hand shoving her sleek head away.

Charlie, Echo, and Delta tumbled over each other, breaking free from their makeshift ball and falling apart in a sprawl. Delta and Echo hopped to their clawed feet, crouching on powerful, poised legs, but Charlie stumbled unsteadily into a standing position and cooed like she was injured. 

Owen shot up in alarm, but Blue merely cracked open an unamused, yellow eye and grumbled. Picking up on his beta's message, Owen relaxed minimally and gestured Charlie over.

"Oh, quit faking it, pretty girl." He rubbed his scarred hand over the leathery hide of her leg, and she perked up with a caw, bouncing from leg to leg as though unable to believe her miraculous recovery. 

Owen cracked an entertained smile and settled back against Blue, her own tough hide warm from the sun. Slowly but surely, all of Owen's girls joined them in their sun basking. He released a content sigh and was happy to not open his eyes for another several hours when a voice from hell interrupted his posse and him.

"So, _this_ is why I haven't been receiving any reports! Well, I do hope you planned on sharing with the class."

Vic Hoskins.

Owen leaped from his settled position, raptors crouched and growling alongside him, and said, "What the fuck are you doing here, Hoskins? The paddock shut down."

Hoskins, leaning joyfully against the railing of the catwalk, smiled brightly. "You make a good point, buddy. The paddock is closed. So, what are _you_ doing here?"

Delta snapped her jaws, and Owen knew she was envisioning the beautiful sight of the InGen operative falling into the enclosure where her sisters and she could take a few well-deserved bites.

"I'm the head handler, _Vic._ That gives me more of a reason to be here any day."

"And those raptors are InGen property, giving me more authority to be here any day."

"Their enclosure was built by Masrani and on Masrani land, not to mention they are provided for by Masrani. You shouldn't be here, _buddy._ "

His girls rumbled beside him, dangerous and low, but Owen didn't dare take his eyes off of the abhorrent man. 

"Well, Mr. Grady, thank you for generously proving that these animals can indeed answer to commands. I'll take my leave now, at your insistence, of course, and when I return, it'll be with a couple 'a trucks to take away your raptors." His grin was that of a winner, sharp and leering. 

"Fuck you, you annoying-ass bastard."

"It's been a pleasure."

* * *

Owen Grady finds Claire Dearing in the Control Room. He sneaks behind her with grace too animal to be human and snatches her elbow before dragging her into an empty hallway. She shrieks, too human to be animal, and slaps a manicured hand against her chest when she discovers who her assailant is.

"Owen!" she whisper-shouts, breathing elated and upper-body huffing. 

"Claire," Owen mocks in a similar tone before speaking normal but still more hushed than usual. "I need to talk to you."

"Yeah, I could fuc- yeah, I could tell, Mr. Grady. What do you need?" And she doesn't curse because Claire is a professional, and she ignores that her heart is also ramming against her ribcage because she is so goddamn nervous that Owen found out that she spoke to Josie about him. 

"Owen," he corrects irritably, instinctively.

"Owen," Claire says because it will appease him. "What's wrong?"

"You need to fire Vic Hoskins."

Claire stares at him for a second, studies his handsome face folded with seriousness, and bursts into laughter. "I'm sorry; _what_?"

"Claire," the raptor trainer hisses and uses one hand to pull her closer to him while the other curls into an angry fist. 

It's the first time the director notices how distressed he looks, the first time she notices that his eyes are too cold, and too predatory, and too _raptor._ The last time Claire saw the man was perhaps a little over a month ago at a mandatory meeting for carnivore handlers. At first glance, Owen appeared _fine._ And then Josie's voice pops into her head, and Claire panics and wonders if this is a PTSD episode because _she doesn't know how to handle those._

But then Owen is shaking her out of her miniature daydream/freak out and is repeating himself.

_"Why?"_

And Claire fucking knows why. Because Hoskins is an asshole, a disease, a never-ending migraine. But she doesn't say any of that and waits patiently for Owen to collect himself enough to speak and communicate why exactly to her.

"Because he wants my raptors."

"What do you mean he wants your raptors?"

"Exactly what it fucking sounds like, Claire." And then Owen's voice turns soft and desperation seeps through the sheer, delicate cracks. " _Please_. He wants to take my girls away for military use."

It hits Claire like a bull, rams straight through her skull and into the processing part of her brain until she is rightfully outraged. "He can't fucking do that!" -screw professionalism- "Those dinosaurs belong to Masrani as much as they do InGen. _We_ fund _them_. They can't do shit without Masrani Corp approving it. The only part of this operation that's theirs is the goddamn genetics. I'll tell you what, Owen. If Hoskins steps a foot in the direction of your raptors, I'll pull the plug and fire him."

Owen looks like she just gave birth to his firstborn (which is a disturbing mental image), and the thankfulness is evident. However, instead of groveling, which Claire wasn't sure if she could stomach, he smirks at her characteristically and says,

"I wish you'd fire him now."

"I know, Owen."

"We all wish you'd fire him now."

"I know, Owen. So do I. How about this? I'll talk to him instead of firing him."

Owen tilts his head and makes a noise of contemplation. "Not as good as firing."

"It'll keep him away from your girls."

"Sounds perfect."

* * *

The chilly breeze that made an occasional appearance was the only reprieve of the humid night. Laughing and chattering echoed throughout the air and lights strung along restaurants and street poles were the only source of illumination in the midnight blackness. Owen spotted a table outside of Winston's Steakhouse full of people he recognized ( _knew_ , Owen. You know them.).

He approached the fairly large table and offered a charming smile. "Mind if I sit?"

"Grady, you motherfucker," said Matt, head Apatosaurus handler, "Sit your ass down, and grab a beer."

Owen laughed good-naturedly and plopped into a seat, hailing a waitress down.

"So, Owen, how's your girls?" asked Sydney the Mosasaur handler as it was custom for _someone_ to ask about his leading ladies whenever they saw him. 

"They're doing good," Owen answered, and his smile was genuine because his girls were one of the few things that made him happy, and he trusted Claire to protect them from Hoskins. 

"M?" he asked in retribution. 

"Oh, she's doing just fine. As dramatic as ever." Sydney rolled her eyes and slumped back in her chair, foot tapping on the ground.

The T-Rex trainer/handler, Laurel, wrapped an arm around Owen's shoulders and grinned. "You sure those raptors ain't gonna turn on you? Because I don't think anyone else in this park is fucking crazy enough to take the job."

Owen smiled, sharp, and dangerous, and _amused,_ and said, "They still need their alpha to teach them a few things. They won't turn on me."

"Yet." Edged Josie whilst beaming, glass lifted before she gulped some of her alcoholic beverage down. 

"Yet," Owen repeated, chapped lips curled upwards even as his pack bounced _NeverNeverNever_ across the bond.

"Hey," interrupted a feminine voice, breathy and sounding in need of oxygen. "Do you guys mind if I hang out for a bit?"

"Not at all." Josie informed the newcomer, eyebrows raised in surprise. 

"Claire!" greeted Laurel. "What are you doing here? I've never seen you out on Staff Nights before."

"Oh, believe me I know. I'm a busy woman." Claire told the table as she took a seat, shoulder-length, red hair swaying with the motion. 

Matt laughed at her obvious statement and Sydney said dryly, "We know."

The Mosasaur trainer waved down a waitress for Claire before anyone else could so much as blink, and then they all placed orders for actual meals.

If the director was surprised that Owen did not immediately jump on her with questions regarding Hoskins and his girls' safety, she didn't let it show. Tonight was about enjoying themselves.


	2. though the truth may vary, this ship will carry our bodies safe to shore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the love on this story so far, darlings! Your Mythical Mother really appreciates it lol! For those wondering, I will be updating once a week, sometimes once every two weeks because of my busy school schedule. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy the chapter, beauties! :)

The low, overly-stimulated chatter and obnoxious laughter of the Break Room was something Josie was blissfully familiar with. After long, stressful years working at a chaotic, shouldn't-be-existing park, knowing all of her "wards" were safe and sound and _not eaten_ was a relief. Josie enjoyed the soft symphony far more than she would ever like to admit or ever would.

And because all of the trainers were a bunch of nosy little things, she wasn't all that surprised when her conversation with a fellow, elder handler was overheard by the entirety of the room, and her business became everyone's business before she had another chance to draw air. 

"What do you mean Ms. Dearing came asking about Owen?" worried an alarmed, Herbivore handler. 

Josie sighed, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose and rub the creases of stress out of her forehead. She properly identified the voice and noticed that Lani was the speaker. She was a sweet girl, if a little too enamored with their very own Raptor Whisperer. It had started as a heart-breaking crush when Owen and Lani first met, but Owen clearly wasn't interested and never quite picked up on the social cues of the young women's affections. _(Another sign of PTSD.)_ Eventually, Lani's crush dwindled from a raging river to a twinkling stream until it was finally only noticeable as a mere over-caring of Owen's well-being that wasn't honestly bad for the man. Josie found it highly tolerable. If someone noticed something was wrong with the poor guy, at least she could trust Lani to actually report it to her. 

So the Spinosaurus handler dignified the rest of them with a response. "She just wanted to check on him. He's not in trouble."

A few shoulders shifted, lowering in their release of tension, but no one was settled. The trainers had a strict code. _If you fight one of us, you fight all of us._ And however unconventional Owen may be, he was a charismatic guy, and he was the best to have around in any situation. 

"What does that even mean?" Laurel asked defensively, right hand jostling the fruity drink it held. "She wanted to check on him?"

"They used to be a thing, right? Maybe she wanted to revisit an old flame, try and see why it didn't work out," suggested a Baryonyx handler.

"No." Sydney dismissed immediately, face drawn tight in consideration as she waved away the proposal. "They've seen each other since, I'm assuming. They aren't looking to get back together. Nothing was awkward, and I was with Claire and Owen a night or so ago. They were fine."

"Besides," Matt interjected, "Claire isn't like that. She doesn't regret things that she ends. And both Claire and Owen have admitted to me that they are better off as friends."

Lani spoke quickly, like she was afraid of accidently interrupting someone, with a blush crawling high on her cheeks and alighting her ears as her hands clutched tightly together in her lap. "Yeah, I mean, I think everyone kinda has to-to get over- to get used to Owen's... face. I think... I don't think they really dated because they saw a future together."

A vet snorted. "One outing isn't really 'dating'." 

"Okay, Josie." Laurel cut in, hand held up in obvious displeasure at the vet's statement. "What did Claire say the reason was?"

"Well, I," Josie startled, "I didn't actually ask her." 

Outraged exclamations arose from the gathered crowd, hands flying into the air, and snide remarks being made.

"Oh, shut it. None of you actually care; you're just nosy little bitches." Josie discontinued, impressive arms crossing over her broad chest making her tattoo sleeve appear to wriggle to life like a bunch of snakes breathing beneath her skin as she levelled the room with a fierce glare.

The annoyed shouts subsided to irritated grumbles before everyone began speaking softly about other topics; when Josie put a lid on your conversation, it was over.

"We care." Laurel, Sydney, and Matt immediately protested, hands raising simultaneously.

"I know," Josie relented, "That's why you're all my favorite."

Shouts of, "Hey!" and "I fucking knew she loved them more" irrupted from the once gently-spoken crowd. Then, a young man, Josie believed he was another Baryonyx handler, raised his own scar-flecked hand like he was a schoolboy.

"Really, though," he said sincerely, "Is Owen okay?"

"He's fine."

It was what Owen always told them. Josie wasn't sure if she believed it, but Grady seemed happy enough, sound enough, the last time she saw him, and that was only two nights ago. Josie could buy it for now. Everyone else nodded in satisfaction at least and carried on savoring their evening.

The senior handler rolled her eyes at the horde and went back to try and enjoy herself. She deserved it.

* * *

The sun shining on Owen's back, greeting his brow in a foreigner's kiss, was a welcome warmth. _Thank you, Jurassic World designers._

He quite frankly wasn't all that sure what he was supposed to do or feel about the Hoskins situation, but he also didn't _want_ to care right now. The wind, which had been appearing more and more lately, lifted his sweat-dampened hair off his forehead, ruffled through his clothes, and left his stubbled face feeling refreshed. The birds were squawking up a rambunctious storm that Owen welcomed, smiling at the tell-tale screeches that admitted from the small creatures when one of his reptilian girls chased after them. 

His eyes were closed loosely, and some would say this was turning your back on the cage, especially when you were _inside_ it, but Owen trusted his raptors not to attack him. Blue was cozily lounging in a ditch she had dug to reach the cool, moist soil with drooping eyes, and the other sisters were lost adventuring in the miles of forestation they were provided. Owen made a mental note to spray them down soon. 

A thought struck the trainer violently, echoing around his head until he was sure the others would pick up on it. Whistling sharply, Owen waited for the rustling of bushes to symbolize that Delta, Echo, and Charlie were near even as Blue glanced at him and huffed her annoyance heatedly.

"Oh, shush," Owen admonished, "It's good news; I promise."

It set his beta in a bit of a better mood at being disturbed as she decidedly stood before her alpha, shifting from powerful leg to powerful leg to regain feeling, setting an example for her younger sisters.

_Good news?_

"Yes, good news."

He waited until the other three arrived before presenting his usually popular idea. "How do you girls feel about a trip to the Restricted Zone?"

* * *

"Dearing? You asked to see me?" Hoskins announced, slamming open the director's door even as his face appeared friendly enough before he began muttering. "For whatever reason..."

Claire gazed icily at him, thin mouth set in a firm line. "That's Ms. Dearing to you."

"Oh, really?" provoked Hoskins as he fidgeted with some of the office supplies sitting on her desk. "I'm not on a first name basis like Grady?"

"Mr. Grady," Claire reined in sharply, "is a tad unconventional."

"You could say I'm a little unconventional."

"I could say you're a little bit of a pain in the ass."

Hoskins's teeth grinded audibly, the click of his meaty jaw easily heard. His burly shoulders rolled and his fists clenched. He tried to smile, but it looked more like a grimace. 

"That's- that's funny."

"I find it so, yes." But Claire wasn't laughing, wasn't even smiling. And neither was Hoskins.

"So." said man cleared his throat, desperately trying to regain control. (Like he ever had it.) "What did you wish to speak to me about, _Ms._ Dearing?"

"A good bit, actually." Claire bemused, straightening a stack of papers with a solid, satisfying few _thnick thnick thnick_ s as they bounced off the desk. "But it's really quite simple, so you shouldn't be here long."

Claire studied Hoskins's tight face, noted the undertone of red, and the domineering position he had adapted, leaning over her desk with his arms braced against it's ledge. She didn't stand because she would be shorter either way. She found his raging eyes and peered into them unblinkingly. 

"Stay away from Owen Grady and his raptors."

_"What?"_

"We're both aware you heard me perfectly."

Hoskins sputtered for a moment before he slammed a large hand onto the director's unceasingly white desk. "The raptors are _InGen_ property! You can't do that!"

Claire rose to her feet and admired her heels for bringing her stature up a few inches. She knew she was tall for a women, but Hoskins was, admittedly, a whopping 6'4. "Quite frankly, yes, I can."

She walked around to the side of her writing surface but kept it between them as a buffer. "InGen operates off of Masrani funds, property, equipment, and provisions. Which means _you_ operate off Masrani funds, property, equipment, and provisions. And seeing as I'm the director of this park, if I want _my_ raptors left alone, there's not much you can do."

Claire thought Hoskins was about to punch her but held her ground despite the danger. His face was curiously red, she was nearly certain blood was about to sprout from his palms like it often did from Owen's when he became angry, and his breathing escalated into uneven risings and fallings of his chest. Finally, the stocky, older gentleman turned on his heel and left, slamming the glass door behind him and shattering a crack through it's frame.

Claire sighed.

* * *

It was only with Barry's astounding help that Owen managed to sneak himself and four fucking Velociraptors out of the paddock and into the Restricted Zone. The French man had only made Owen promise not to become raptor chow before he allowed him passage with a pearly smile. Everything melted away after that.

Owen exclusively knew the wind lapping at his face, the roar of his motorcycle, the joyous shrieks of his girls, and the crunch of gravel that soon faded away to the soft impact of dirt. He melted away into a simpler mind, into the mind of a raptor where nothing existed except this. Except being free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would have had this out sooner, but I got distracted by my brother asking to play darts.


	3. T is for Trauma and W is for What the Fuck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, loves! I hope you're all feeling okay! 
> 
> Enjoy :)

The shrieks of the large, tropical bird faded into the air like a fine mist as Blue ended its unforeseeably long life. She left the kill for her sisters, trotting over to where Owen stood propped against his bike with two, short caws. 

He rested a hand against her warm maw, wiping the few specks of blood onto his practical pants with a grimace. Oh, well. They were already dirty anyway. 

Charlie, Echo, and Delta were posturing ten feet ahead of them, alpha and beta, as they tried to decide who would dine on the less-than-equivalent snack. Owen whistled sharply, fingers set against his lips.

 _"Share."_ He instructed verbally, and the raptors looked at him like he was insane. Which he probably was. 

He rolled his green eyes at their indecisive behavior, folding strong, sun-kissed arms across his chest, and laughed as Blue darted out quickly, snatching the morsel for herself. The girls pouted before quickly forgetting about the interaction and chasing each others' tails, pouncing. Owen made a note to request and schedule a live feeding; perhaps a nice, large, female cow would do. He didn't like when his girls were angsty. It set him on edge.

"Alright, ladies!" Owen called, "How about a race before sundown, and then we'll head back?"

The raptors huffed excitably, chittering their acquiesce.

The corners of Owen's slightly-chapped lips tugged upwards, fighting against gravity, as he shoved down heavily on his shift and sped away from the crime scene of blood and feathers.

* * *

Wiping darkened hands on a dingy, white towel, Barry internally panicked when he saw a pearly Mercedes-Benz GLE 450 pull into the paddock's driveway, gravel crunching under the newfound weight. He glanced back at the empty enclosure and then down the more-or-less abandoned road Owen and the girls had taken. Cream-colored heels found purchase as they slipped out of the car's fresh interior, and seconds later, Barry was plastering on a charming smile as Claire Dearing made an appearance. 

He knew who it was the moment he saw the crazy expensive car, so Barry at least wasn't falling apart or all that surprised to see her. He just hoped she didn't wish to talk to Owen or assess the raptor pack. 

"Owen's not around," he informed, bright beam still in place as he walked the last few steps to meet her, "I hope that's not why you came."

"No, I-" Claire smoothed down her skirt in deflection. "I was actually hoping to speak with you."

"Oh?"

Barry had heard that Claire came asking Josie about Owen, and while the director had yet to specify, a nagging in the back of his head urged him to recognize that the woman wanted information on his best friend. He set his feet and prayed his face still looked friendly enough.

"Yes. You're close to Mr. Grady, aren't you?"

"Well, I would hope so." An incredulous laugh passed his full lips without permission. 

"How has he been?"

The question caught Barry off-guard, a feeling he wasn't accustomed to, and he squinted at her in assessment. "Owen has been fine. No more of a disaster than usual."

"That's-that's good," Claire exhaled shakily, "What is his relationship with Hoskins? How would you describe it?"

"Claire," Barry asked out of concern instead of answering her onslaught of questions, "Are you okay?"

"Yes," Claire replied before groaning, "No. I don't know. I'm trying to keep fucking Vic Hoskins under wrap because Mr. Grady said he threatened his animals, and workers keep telling me Mr. Grady isn't mentally stable, and _I swear to God,_ if I go to one more stock holders meeting, I'm going to stab someone with a pen."

"Okay, Claire," Barry accepted, used to dealing with a worked up Owen, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder as he guided her toward an area of wood-hewn benches, "Talk to me. How can I help?"

"Please. Just tell me what Mr. Grady's connection to Hoskins is. Whatever bullshit question I asked earlier that sounded far more formal."

Barry chuckled and then revealed grimly, "It's not great. They butt heads, knock shoulders. Owen really fucking hates him."

"I think it's reciprocated."

He cackled loudly. "I think you might be onto something there... But, honestly, there's not much else to their relationship other than mutual hate. Hoskins is a pig, and he thinks he knows what he's doing with these military plans for the girls, and Owen... Owen has a connection with them like nothing I've ever seen. He's not going to let that happen to them."

"Thanks, Barry," Claire sighed, standing up, "You've been a big help."

"Of course. Call me, yeah? If you're stressed and need to talk?"

The director nodded and grinned tiredly, finding refuge in her car a minute later.

* * *

The peaceful silence of her car didn't last long; Claire's phone rang violently which did absolutely nothing for her headache. She regretted not taking ibuprofen when Zara offered some earlier. Claire fished the offending, technical piece from her exorbitant purse and answered without bothering to check who it was.

_"Dearing."_

She groaned, which definitely wasn't professional for a woman of her position, and waited for the set of undoubtedly hostile words to fly at her.

 _"I've filed a complaint for you to be removed from the island and, though unlikely, fired from any and all Masrani Corp jobs,"_ boasted Hoskins, and she could just imagine his smug, little face.

"What?" Claire screeched, "On what account?"

_"Neglecting the dinosaurs, unprofessional relations with employees, and violation of personal boundaries."_

"But I never-"

Hoskins cut her off before Claire had time to finish defending herself. _"We'll just have to see how well you fair against the company and a judge. Good day, Ms. Dearing."_

The call ended suddenly, and Claire was left gaping, phone still clutched in her hand, on an empty road in the middle of wild vegetation, car halted in her shock, as inky, oily tendrils of dread slithered and thrashed in her chest.

* * *

Laurel liked Owen. He reminded her of her brother who returned from the army a little more fucked up than any of them would have preferred.

She had been working at the park for as long as anybody could, hired a few months after Josie when it was decided Sue needed a handler officially. And so she was called in.

Laurel had degrees in veterinary practices and grew up surrounded by predators on her aunt and uncle's big cat sanctuary where she had been raised... There weren't exactly specifics when it came to hiring people off-their-hinges enough to work with dinosaurs.

Owen was the craziest of them all. He warranted gossip, and wordless whispers followed him wherever he went. It made Laurel want to cry sometimes, the way he isolated himself from others so much and for so long that they had no choice but to wonder what happened to him, where he went. 

He was a funny guy, and something about him made her feel safe in an unsettled way, but Owen watched people like he was waiting for the next attack. Like he was anticipating the easiest target's arrival in crowds. Like he had already figured out one's entire history, entire backstory, without even needing to speak. 

"Good night, Rexy," Laurel whispered softly as she finally shut off the viewing room's lights, knowing Sue didn't hear her, not when the handler couldn't even locate her glowing, yellow eyes in the forestation.

* * *

If Sydney had to pick three people to be locked in a room with from the island, Owen Grady would 100% be one of them. He was charismatic, and respectful, and just the right amount of _male_ in a way no one else was. He unsettled her at times with his disarming gaze, long stretches of silence, and antisocial tendencies, but he made her feel _safe,_ and she didn't know why.

Sydney never relied on other people for security or support. She was raised strictly on the military camp in which her mother and father had been stationed at and would have joined the family profession herself eventually had she not been offered a job training the Mosasaur at Jurassic World. 

Sydney _knew_ how to take care of herself, and she had seen some fucking demented things in her time, but Owen made it all seemed dwarfed. His presence felt like a tragic Greek hero had wandered into her sightline and had stuck around long enough to rub off on her. It was infuriating.

She didn't like, didn't _trust,_ how quickly the raptor trainer had wormed a hole into her heart, but Sydney did know one thing.

She would probably die for him. And if she found herself unable, unwilling to do that, to commit the ultimate sacrifice, Sydney knew she would do every other damned thing on the planet for him.

* * *

Matt patted the flank of his matriarch Apatosaurus lethargically, wincing at his aching muscles. He thought of his friend Owen, and how he never seemed to break stride or show physical exhaustion after a day's hard work. Matt assumed it was built up stamina from his time in the Navy and didn't let himself feel bad for it. 

He himself wasn't out of shape, far from it, but Owen seemed impossibly fit. He'd seen the guy shirtless one time. It was years ago in the employees' public showers when both he and Owen were new and didn't have proper lodgings yet. The raptor trainer was _ripped._ And weirdly scarred, but Matt never brought that up throughout the lengthy stretch of their unproblematic friendship.

Some things, he knew, just weren't made to be brought up in casual conversations.

After years of thinking he was going to be his father's prodigal son and become a paleontologist too, Matt had a rude, but exhilarating and nonetheless welcomed, awakening when Claire Dearing called him up and asked him if Matt would like a job in the handling field at Jurassic World. 

He had barely balked at the opportunity, and when his now late father had informed him that the idea was spectacular, the hesitation disappeared like chocolate cake.

With a final, reassuring glance at his herd, Matt completed any and all procedures necessary before bidding the after hours cleaning crew goodnight with a simple reminder to close up.

* * *

It was sometime after 9 o'clock when Owen returned to his paddock with his girls, laughing drunkenly as he shushed his raptors for making too much noise. He himself was hardly any better, but Owen didn't give it much thought.

He settled down at his girls' nesting site, hands supporting his head, and Charlie, Blue, Delta, and Echo conformed to his body contentedly, happy for their alpha to join their sleeping pile once again. 


	4. you used to say, "holy fuck"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, darlings! Thanks for all the love!
> 
> Also, I'm not a lawyer, and the only thing I know about court is from TV shows and movies. I'll try to make it somewhat accurate, but no promises :)

Three long, penetrating rings echoed through the air before Claire gathered her courage into a loose ball just small enough to manage in her arms. She took the time to breathe constructively, and when she felt more like a multi-millionaire and less like a high-school train wreck, Claire gripped her top-of-the-line phone in her sweaty palm. She answered after heaving another, singular, calming breath.

_"Claire!"_

"Simon... I- I am so sorry about this whole mess. I just-"

 _"No time for apologies, love. Look, this isn't worse than anything else we've dealt with, okay? This isn't a rapid T-Rex or a lose pack of murderous raptors. I've got my best lawyers, arguably the most effective in the country, dealing with your case. We_ will _win this; everything will be fine."_

The reassurance of her boss brought far more relief to her than Claire was ever willing to admit. He was a powerful, charismatic business man. If Masrani said they had this whole monstrosity in the bag, she was inclined to believe him.

"I don't know how this happened," Claire confessed, "I've never- everything just got out of control so fast."

 _"I know, Claire. I'm not angry with you. I honestly thought that Hoskins was going to do a swell job, what, with his background as a general. I suppose I was wrong. Listen,_ when _we win this case, I'll see what I can do about removing him from the island and stripping him of his title, but no promises; Hoskins works under InGen, but for me, as a general compromise. I'm not sure where my powers lie in that situation. Until then, head off Isla Nublar to the courthouse your case is being held at. I'll send you the address."_

"Woah, woah, woah," Claire backtracked, headache building by the second, "Isn't it too soon for us to already have a scheduled court date?"

Simon made an unhappy grunt of disagreement. _"Either Hoskins has been planning this for longer than any of us were suspect to, or influence has been used to push matters forward. Some Jurassic World workers have been called in as witnesses. I'll be contacting them, so do not worry. All you have to do is look appropriate and show up. Simple. Don't fret about a single thing."_

Simon hung up before Claire could get in another world. She huffed in aggravation, pulling her phone away from her ear to glare at it. 

_God,_ Claire thought, _I really hope Owen wasn't called in for this._

* * *

Owen woke up unpleasantly to a frantic man yelling, and the incredibly familiar sound of non-lethals clicking noisily. Green eyes shot open, the haze of sleep threatened into steering clear of his vision. Elbows finding purchase beneath him, Owen pushed himself up and was alerted to his angry, hissing girls. Huh. Why hadn't he noticed that earlier?

He squinted against the sun defensively and, yet, still managed to locate the shouting man. Barry. He waved, but it turned stunted at the exasperated, passive-aggressive scowl he received. 

Owen's alertness seemed to send his raptors into some semblance of a frenzy. He leaped to his feet with more energy than he knew he had.

"If you put twelve amps into these animals, they're never going to trust me again. Put the weapons _down._ " 

_Silly,_ admonished Blue.

 _Silly, silly, silly,_ chanted Delta, Echo, and Charlie.

"We thought you were fucking dead!" expressed on of the ACU members, but none of them lowered their non-lethals.

Owen splayed his arms, typical I-Don't-Give-A-Fuck, smirk lighting his features ablaze with confidence. "Perfectly alive. Which you aren't going to be if you shoot one of my animals, so _put it down_."

The man stumbled in surprise, grip releasing and gun tumbling in the air as he tried to regain purchase of it at Owen's ferocity.

"You sure, Grady?" piped up a gruff-sounding women's voice.

"Definitely. Please."

The black-haired woman titled her head to the side in gesture for the rest to yield; reluctantly, they did. 

"Thank you," Owen breathed in relief, glad for the averted crisis.

Now, to take care up his protective, twitchy dinosaurs. 

Owen shushed them, but his girls must not have heard him over their own rumbles, and the murmurs of the ACU crew. Blue gave a massive jump and flew into the air, jaws snapping even though they never reached her destined target.

The worker closest, a guy around thirty maybe, startled heavily and fumbled for his weapon, backing up with uneven pants. 

"Hey!" Owen commanded, pointing a rough finger at the man, "What did I say? Put the damn thing down!"

He didn't bother waiting to see if the scaredy cat complied and instead turned his focus onto his beta.

"Hey, pretty girl. What's that all about, hmm? I'm alright; I'm okay."

Blue snarled undecidedly yet stalked over to her alpha, circling him in a way others would claim to be predatory but what Owen knew to be merely for inspection purposes. Soon enough, when the other three murder birds deemed the ACU team to be no threat, Echo, Delta, and Charlie, joined their snuffling against his chest firmly. 

Belatedly, Owen realized that to another human he would smell like absolute shit.

"Well, Grady, this is the second time. I can't stay for long; _places_ to be. _Things_ to do. But before I go," Vic Hoskins held up a slightly tarnished phone, and a bright flash flared through the enclosure. 

By the time Owen made it to the release gate and out into the open, Hoskins was gone.

* * *

Owen showered under water so hot it steamed and clogged his sinuses. He rubbed his stubbly face in everlasting irritation and heaved air from his lungs. He needed good human interaction. Normally, Owen would simply seek Barry out for this, but Barry still seemed a tad put-out with him. Decision made, Owen shut off the water, an abused groan sprouting from the handle, and donned clean clothes.

He kicked off, the rumbling of his motorcycle purring beneath him, the bumps of the hastily-hewn road inviting him. The ride was swifter than Owen had expected or planned for, and he swallowed as the shrieks of over-joyed children met his trained ears. He stumbled through the massive horde, noted no one was at the Mosasaur show and that not even Sydney was present, and headed for the Tyrannosaurus enclosure. 

Laurel wasn't in the main room and neither were any curious guests. Owen scratched the back of his neck, fingertips scraping the overgrown hair there. Where the hell was everybody?

In the back of his mind, more distant than his girls, but sharper and more piercing than most things on this island, a beacon pulsated. 

Like something was saying, _Here._

Owen swallowed thickly, tongue like cotton in his mouth as he attempted to rub the ache from his temples. Furrowing his eyebrows made things worse, but he couldn't help doing it anyway. Then, as Owen was exhaling an unsteady breath, he spotted a vibrant, yellow eye amidst the shock of verdant. 

_Sue,_ Owen thought tiredly, _of course._

"Owen!" came a voice, "What are you doin' here?"

"Laurel!" Owen proclaimed in relief, spinning around quickly. He was taken aback as he spotted her striding towards him. 

She was wearing a fitted, gray pantsuit complemented by golden jewelry, and black heels. Her golden-brown locks were pulled back into a professional ponytail. 

"What the hell are you wearing?" It spewed from his mouth before Owen had time to consider how the comment sounded.

Laurel's face fell open, eyebrows raising like she was about to beat the shit out of her coworker. "Excuse me?"

"I- that's not what I- that came out wrong," Owen faltered, finishing lamely. 

Laurel rolled her eyes like any good, exasperated friend would. "I know. I look stunning, of course. But, seriously, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be fawning over your raptors and sneaking out later when it's dark like Batman?"

Owen fulminated his displeasure at her and crossed his arms. "Don't compare me to Batman."

Laurel snickered and then checked her watch- this, at least, was still the typical military one worn by all employees, "Shit."

"What's wrong?"

"I have to get going. Court's going to start soon."

"Court's going to _what_?" 

"Oh. You haven't heard? Hoskins is trying to sue Claire."

Owen's eyes widened, the familiar wetness of anger blossoming in his chest. "They're not calling me in as a witness?"

"I guess not." Laurel began a backwards jog, which seemed perilously daunting in her high-heels, and jabbed a thumb in the direction behind her. "Just... please don't do anything stupid. Matt, Sydney, and Josie are already on their way. I'm gonna be late if I don't go now. Sorry!"

Right. That must've been why Hoskins said he had places to be and things to do.

When Laurel disappeared, Owen let out a loud curse. "Shit. I don't like anyone else on this stupid island."

* * *

Claire met her lawyer Jude Myers, a woman despite her controversial name, an hour before her combined initial appearance and arraignment. Her nerves were fraying, chest exploding with each hammer of her heart against her ribs. 

Jude introduced her defendant, and Hoskins's lawyer, Jeremy Wayne, introduced their side of the case. Much before Claire was prepared to, Judge Alcondra called her to the stand where she was placed under oath. 

"The defendant is accused with neglect of... dinosaurs, unprofessional relations with employees performing under her, and corresponding violation of personal boundaries," announced the judge, gray eyes peering observingly over his wire-rimmed glasses.

Claire bit her tongue to keep from protesting against the claim. Her emerald eyes found Hoskins's gleeful, pigmented face, and she steeled her features as their gazes met; he sneered in an unmanly manner, and she tuned her attention onto the rapid-fire questions being thrown at her by Mr. Wayne.

Yes, she pleaded not guilty.

No, she didn't believe she neglected the dinosaurs in her care whatsoever. 

Yes, she admits to briefly experimenting with an employee. (Claire makes sure to say that it was a singular date where nothing more than a greeting kiss on the cheek happened.)

No, she has never violated personal boundaries of anyone who has visited the park.

Yes, she does have a squeaky clean record other than the speeding ticket she got when she was 16. (Mr. Wayne was free to check if he wished.)

After Claire's statements were made, Masrani was called to the stand to gives follow ups and report his support of Claire as a person and worker.

Next was Laurel. She fiddled with her jacket sleeve as she sat, and then permitted her focal point to be Judge Alcondra. 

"Now," began the older gentleman, "let's hear about this worker Ms. Dearing 'experimented' with. What can you tell me about their relationship?"

"That it's strictly platonic, sir. They went out one night together, but that was the whole of anything 'romantic' between them. Not to mention Owen asked her out, not the other way around."

"Owen?" the judge tried out on his tongue. "What's his role in the park?"

"Owen Grady is the head handler of the raptor pack."

Mutters and gasps echoed from the assembled jury.

Judge Alcondra's bushy eyebrows raised. "...raptors?"

"Yes, sir."

"I see." He cleared his throat and adjusted his black garments. "And what would you say about neglect to the animals at the park by Ms. Dearing, Ms. Henshaw?"

They continued on until all of Claire's hand-picked witnesses had testified, and they moved onto Hoskins's part.

Mrs. Myers was truly wonderful. She stated how there were no rules against employee/employee relationships in the worker contract and noted that no one gathered believed there to be any dinosaurs receiving neglect, fortunately. 

Claire could candidly confess she felt good about winning the case. Hoskins brought out witnesses she didn't even recognize, and she was good with faces, but somehow the infuriating man and his lawyer made a supportable case. Even though she knew this, Claire felt confident, and she was definitely going to let herself feel it's positive affect.

The brief recess that was called was one of the most nerve-wracking moments of her life; her friends comforted her with hands-on-shoulders and inspiring words, but Claire- Claire was still terrified of losing her job (and any other sentence that she could be subjected to). 

When they were all summoned back into the courtroom, Judge Alcondra banged his gavel with three resounding bangs.

When he announced her fate, Claire's chest exploded. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If the court scene seemed abridged to you, it's because I really didn't want to write it, and my sister was distracting me so when she reads this- *blows kiss*
> 
> Like, yikes tho... sorry bout that.  
> Also, there was supposed to be a scene of the judge asking why Owen wasn't there, but it just didn't make it.


	5. i have stitched a mask of confidence, and i wear it like a glove

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyyyy, guuuuys! Sorry for being offline for so long, but at least it wasn't a whole month, right? I haven't been at home these past two weekends, when I usually update, and I've had school during the week, so I just couldn't fit in the time. Nonetheless, your Mythical Mother has returned!
> 
> Enjoy, my loves! ;)

Claire sat with an odd, stoic numbness as the helicopter carried their misfit, strangely put together group back to Isla Nublar. She couldn't hear anything; noise existed in another world whereas hers were mere mutters and dim awareness. Claire couldn't quite see anything either. Everything existed in an artful blur; all she could focus on was the fresh, raw memory of her coworkers- her _friends-_ hugging her and patting her shoulders back at the courthouse. (How long had it been since they left that wretched building? An hour? 30 minutes? Did that experience really belong to today?)

In fact, their was a hand on Claire's back now, rubbing concentrated, reassuring circles over her jutting shoulder blades. It must have been either Matt or Simon because it was broad and heavy whereas Claire knew both Laurel and Sydney had miraculously dainty hands. She had always admired that about them; the fingers were long and thin, wrists fragile. Sydney usually had the tendency to grow her nails longer, left natural, of course, until they broke under the toiling of her hard work. Laurel cut hers appropriately because why bother to have to deal with blood and fat getting lodged between keratin and skin when she wrestled with dead goats?

The ample hand slowed, pausing to pat firmly thrice, and then continued on with a side-to-side motion. Claire thought someone was calling her name, but she just couldn't manage to make herself respond. She blinked to let them know she heard; whether or not the person realized Claire had answered wasn't confirmed.

She just couldn't believe she wasn't getting fired from her job as park director.

* * *

Owen stood in the T-Rex's viewing room for perhaps ten minutes before he comprehended what had truly happened, what Laurel had told him. His palms grew sweaty, miniature oceans forming in every crease and crevice. Seconds later, Owen was slamming the heel of said hand against his head as an insistent panging struck his temple harshly, demanding _herehereherehere._

A noise escaped his cracked lips, and he fell to one knee.

Where his raptor pack was a steady lullaby humming away in the back of Owen's mind, Sue was a boisterous intruder pounding on everything she saw, every surface that existed. She was too _big._ Too _there_. 

Owen managed to wrench his head in the direction of the glass and spotted large, serpentine eyes staring right back. It was unnerving- to have such a humongous, illustrious predator so keenly aware and curious of him. A gasp startled its way out of his chest, and Owen paused as Sue tilted her uncomfortably enormous head in a nearly imperceptible manner. A gush of hot air irrupted from her nostrils, and then she turned and lumbered boomingly back into her lush greenery.

Owen staggered to his feet unsteadily, clambering to escape the somehow confining room.

He unconsciously found himself planted before the Mosasaur's tank, scarred hands gripping the railing until his knuckles turned white, and plumes of black exploded across his vision. Owen's mind was still sensitive from Sue, and suddenly being thrusted before such another large creature didn't help.

M was different though; her mind probed. Sue examined, sure, but it was more cursory. She wasn't actively searching. She simply wanted to see what the novel connection between them was. M, however, inspected every corner, and when she met the resistance of the pack bond, she _clawed,_ stubbornly insisting on finding an in.

Owen stumbled from the railing, and his hand connected greedily with a too warm pole. He clutched it in retaliation against his persistent headache and grit his eyes securely. The pain should fade eventually, but the obnoxious crowds pushing passed him made it hard for Owen to believe.

Who the fuck would replace Claire if she was fired? _Hoskins?_ Hell no. Owen was leaving the goddamn island if that prick gained control of the park. He was getting Barry to help him pack up his girls, and then he was illegally smuggling them to the Americas. Probably South considering it would more closely match the humid, forest-y climate. 

Owen ran a hand over his perspiring, stubbly face. No way any other boss would let him get away with half the shit he did. Claire... understood to some degree. Or she at least trusted him enough to not question his requests or weird activities. Some random bitch from corporate who would probably look either like a fucking twig or a walrus and was a misogynist wouldn't let Owen's crazy boy shit fly. 

But putting aside his personal issues, Claire was Owen's friend. They might have a rocky past, but he cared for her, and she obviously cared for him too. That job meant everything to her; Claire put her heart and soul into Jurassic World. She might have been detached from the actual dinosaurs, might have seen them more as numbers than living beings, but she was the exact opposite with her employees. Claire has and had been through hell and back for all of them. 

Owen sighed, swallowing against the thick lump in his throat. Before he could even get another blink in, an impeccably dressed group of men and women lurched into sight. 

"Owen!" Matt shouted gleefully over the noise.

Owen allowed an easy smile to float onto his face and nodded at Masrani respectfully. "How did it go?"

Claire launched herself at him, and he stumbled back in surprise before he found his footing. He didn't say anything but casted a concerned look at the rest of the entourage, wrapping his own muscular arms around Claire's back. They merely looked on and shrugged.

"Everything okay, Claire?" Owen rumbled, angling his head down at her fiery hair. 

She nodded against his chest, and a muffled statement ruptured. "Everything's fine. Everything's gonna be okay."

"Thank God," Owen answered, securing his arms.

Claire giggled.

* * *

They lost Masrani somewhere along the way. Owen shook his hand and gave him another nod in thanks for taking care of Claire. The man smiled softly and charmingly and nodded back. 

Owen wanted Claire to go home to her fancy apartment above the Gyrosphere Valley, take a nice, long, hot shower, and then sleep in, but the woman insisted she was fine and that she wanted to accompany them. Somehow, the group's designation landed at the Raptor Paddock, and something in Owen's chest unfurled at the much stronger lull of his pack's minds and their minds only.

"Jesus," Laurel cursed, "I forgot how big they got."

"You work with a T-Rex," Matt said critically. 

Laurel stuck her tongue out at him. "It's different."

Claire stepped forward, (and how did she not fall when her heels sunk into the gravel?) gazing with mesmerized eyes at the growling reptiles glaring them down. "They really are beautiful."

"Yeah," Owen smiled, "they are."

Sydney scratched her jaw in a considering way and then yanked her hand away when she remembered that she was wearing makeup. "I don't think they like us. Especially not that one. That's Blue, right?"

Owen nodded and continued on to inform, "Nah, they're fine. See, they're just growling because they're cautious; they aren't sure if you're a threat or not."

Matt's dark brows furrowed, and he seemed to have paled slightly. "To them?"

"No," Owen's smirk darkened, "to me."

Matt shoved him, jumping when it caused Blue to snarl more viciously at him. "Not funny, man!"

"It's kinda funny."

The girls were laughing, so Owen proudly let his lips tug upwards. He gave the girls -raptor, not human- the "all good" signal, and Blue, Charlie, Delta, and Echo reluctantly dropped their extreme tension.

"Besides," he started again, "See the way Blue didn't jump at the gate? How she just growled? She didn't consider you an actual threat to my life."

"Because that makes me feel so much better," Sydney grumbled, crossing her arms.

"It should."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally planned to open with Claire being told she wasn't guilty, but I thought torturing your little hearts a little longer would be funny lol


	6. important information: he's not happy, but everyone else is

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my beautiful loves!

Owen listened the gentle lapping of waves slamming into the walls of the Mosasaur enclosure dimly in an effort to remain present in his friends' conversation. Josie was in the midst of an admittedly funny story about a pompous tourist she had had to deal with earlier that day. Claire was frowning in disapproval, whether of the visitor or of the senior handler was unknown, red-painted lips pinching. Matt was slapping the table, fists banging with resounding booms.

"I told the dumb fucker that Ol' Spiny was dangerous, but the little shit didn't want to listen!"

"Wait!" Laurel interrupted, a horrified, open expression pasted on her face. "So he just doesn't have a finger anymore? She ate it?"

"Snapped it clean off," Josie confirmed, nodding as though in proud approval and palming her whiskey glass.

"You're lucky Jurassic World makes everyone sign a waiver," Claire scowled, "Mr. Jacobson could have sued us!"

Sydney, who was still snorting profusely, slammed her hand against the table. "'Cause we need to go to court again!"

"How are you laughing right now? That guy _lost his finger_! It's not funny," The T-Rex handler insisted. 

Sydney met the brunette's eyes, her own spouting hearty tears. "It's a little funny."

Laurel glared at her, and a moment later, her face collapsed into contagious giggles. "It is! Oh my god, it really is! Sue almost ate a baby one time! I had to leave the fucking room!"

Claire slumped in her chair uncharacteristically, and she rubbed her eyebrows and forehead violently. "I need new employees."

"Hey!" Owen protested. "I'm not laughing!"

"But you _are_ smiling. Because you find it just as funny as these sick individuals, and you don't know how to properly express your feelings."

"Harsh!" hissed Matt with a playful grin.

"Seriously, guys," Claire said, "I just wanted a nice dinner with my friends, and you're laughing at people being eaten by your dinosaurs!"

"They weren't actually eaten!" Sydney protested persistently. "We're not heartless."

"Oh, of course," the manager replied sarcastically, groomed brows furrowing is false sympathy.

Just as Owen was about to spring his boiling question onto the group, their waitress came around with plates piled with their ordered food. They said their thanks, and Owen waited politely for everyone to begin sawing away at steaks or stabbing the life from their salads before speaking.

"So what happened with Hoskins? You never told me. Just that Claire-" he jabbed his fork in her direction "-wasn't being fired."

"Well," Matt began.

Owen interrupted the Apatosaurus handler before he could get another syllable out. "Please, tell me he got fired."

Matt glared at him, so Owen elbowed the man, aiming for his ribs. Matt dodged from his trajectory, and the raptor trainer was left to prod the other's upper-arm forcefully.

" _Well,_ " Claire reiterated, "he didn't get fired."

"Boo!" Laurel muttered, pouting into her prequel salad. 

The park manager glanced at her and then started up again. " He didn't get fired; he just isn't allowed near me outside of professional meetings for 3 months, and now he can't call his own shots. He has to have Masrani's or my permission exclusively. And if he finds me doing any 'suspicious' activity within the next 48 days and can present it with evidence to the court, then I'm on suspension until the court can sort everything out. So I'm not completely off the hook."

"Well, hey!" Owen cheered, spirits suddenly lifted and soaring, "That's something at least!"

"Damn right it is," Claire smirked smugly, looking down at her plate with shoulders looser than Owen had ever seen them. 

He allowed the corners of his lips to tug against gravity without complaint, smiling silently to himself as he took in his surroundings. The night air was lit brightly by fairy lights, filled with chatter of other staff members, and bustling with joy. Finally feeling satisfied enough to eat, Owen cut into his steak vigorously.

"God damnit, man!" crowed Matt, who was sitting to his right. "Any rarer and that thing would hop of your plate and run into the street!"

The rest of the table peered curiously at Owen's plate.

Sydney cursed, whistling to show her impressed state of mind.

"Ya like it bloody, aye, Grady?" teased Laurel.

"I don't- I don't get it." Owen frowned. He knew he liked his steak leaning more toward 'raw' rather than 'sizzling' and 'well-done', but they were acting like he wiped the hide off the damn thing's ass and dragged it to his plate.

"It's okay, Owen," Josie supplied, commiserating. "It's not your fault your raptors' appetites are rubbing off on you."

* * *

"Barry!" called Owen, grinning.

"Owen." Barry replied stiffly, dark eyes refusing to meet the emerald of his friend's.

"Oh, come on, man. You're not still mad at me are you?"

Barry sighed, falling to his forearms on the Raptor Paddock's catwalk railing. "I'm not mad. I just- you have to be more careful, Owen. What you did was- well, it was dangerous! Not everyone understands like I do. Not the ACU and especially not Hoskins. You have to be _careful._ If that word is even in your vocabulary."

Owen leaned similarly beside him. "I know how to be careful. I was in the military, remember?"

Barry hummed, finally turning his head to face him, and said, "And I wonder how you're alive more and more everyday."

Owen scoffed offensively, jamming his elbow at the French man. "Fucking rude."

Barry chuckled, settling in. The cicadas chirped loudly in the trees, their presence sure to be overwhelming in mere hours. Only essential lights were on around the paddock, and the ones that were shining had a growing collection of moths and gnats parading beneath them. Shouts of workers ridding the others goodnight echoed throughout the humid, night air. 

Owen released a pent up breath, allowing his eyes to slip closed. He felt peaceful then. Things were turning out okay. Hoskins was beat down and unable to touch his pack, his friends were thriving, Claire still had her job, and Owen was mostly convinced whatever brief rift that had cracked open between Barry and him was long gone.

"We good, man?" He asked anyway for clarification, holding out his arm at a nearly vertical angle.

Barry looked at him slowly, in no rush to push through the calm night. He pushed himself off the railing and clasped Owen's hand, pulling him in concisely. "Yeah, man, we're good."

"Great!" Owen said, brushing his hands against his durable, rough-material pants for something to do. "I'm gonna go see my girls, and then I'll head home for the night."

"Sure you won't fall asleep in there?"

"Oh, ha ha. I'm sure I can manage, thanks."

Owen walked away to Barry's laughs.

When he slid open the release gate, he was ambushed by four, scaly little beasts. Owen rubbed flanks, caressed snouts, and cooed until Delta, Echo, Charlie, and Blue realized he wasn't leaving them at any second. 

_AlphaAlphaAlpha_

"Hey, pretty girls. Were you good for Uncle Barry?"

Blue snorted at him as though she was asking if he was stupid. He laughed.

"Yeah, I know; I know. My girls are always good. Don't ever get in trouble, hmm?"

Charlie hopped around them in circles from her left foot to her right, so Delta started around them in a circle going in the opposite direction on her right to left foot until they bumped into each other and fell on their asses. Blue snapped at them.

"What do you girls say about a hunt tomorrow?"

Four heads cocked curiously, attentively, to the side.

"No, not in the Restriction Zone. Just a live hunt in the paddock."

The little shits whined at him.

"Hey, come on. You can eat it. What about a big ol' cow?"

Blue snuffled her approval.

* * *

Hoskins paced angrily, desperately trying to think of a solution through the seething of his mind. "How the fuck am I supposed to pin something on that bitch if I can't fucking get near her?"

He passed his hands over his face aggressively, glaring every time an InGen technician dared to catch his eye. A laugh startled its way from his chest. "Like, what am I supposed to do? Use fucking photoshop?"

A technician, slim, male, rectangular glasses, piped up, "It'd have to be really good photoshop or else you'll be charged for fraud and corruption of official evidence."

Hoskins spun around, fury dripping from his fingers in black oil. "Did I fucking ask you-"

He paused suddenly, all the technicians frozen from his bout of anger, in an apparent realization. "That's it."


	7. when the flood water comes, it ain’t gonna be clear; it’s gonna look like mud

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, babies! I know that in an earlier chapter I said I would update every weekend, but let's be realistic. Updates are every other weekend. I just don't have time outside of then. Thanks for all the love so far, beauties!

The revolting creaking from the lift grated painfully against Owen's sensitive ears. He pushed down his wince, focusing on the excited festering of positive feelings emitting from his pack. The pulley system came to a momentary halt, the fat cow situated in the sling mooing passively. Owen pulled his clicker from his dirt-crested pocket and clinked it thrice; his girls' heads snapped to him and bopped, tails swaying impatiently behind their powerful bodies. 

He nodded at the worker operating the pulley without breaking Blue's eye contact. Her sisters' eyes drifted back in the direction of the lift as the creaking began again. Owen clicked once and gave a sharp call of, "Hey!"

Obediently, Delta, Charlie, and Echo focused on him anew. Owen sighed internally, pocketing his clicker because he honestly felt kind of ridiculous when he used it. The five of them, alpha, beta, pack, shared intensely focused eye contact, and Owen knew the other paddock workers were staring at him for it. He couldn't find it in himself to care.

The cow finally reached the ground, crying loudly and frantically now that she realized just who she was stuck with and what was about to happen. The pulley operator hectically slammed the button to release the sling and began yanking it back to the safety of the platform. No doubt, adrenaline was rushing through his body. Owen didn't think any of the people assembled knew true adrenaline. The spike of fear evaporating away to quick heartbeats and pumping blood, to invincible courage and loose laughs. 

_NowNowNow_ , insisted his pack.

 _No_ , Owen sent along, _not yet._

"Aye!" he shouted when their anxious energy released, and they shifted towards their soon-to-be prey.

All too quickly, as though to prove they were the picture of innocence, Blue, Charlie, Delta, and Echo found his gaze again. Owen huffed amusedly but lifted his hand and whistled as it fell. Streaks of gray-green were the last thing anyone saw before the poor cow's life ended in a bloody massacre. The humid air filled with the sounds ominous sloshing, horrific mewls, and cracking bones.

A younger intern turned away, pale-faced and clutching his stomach. "I'm going to be sick."

All the employees were grumbling, had their eyes squeezed shut, or were gagging. Instinctively, Owen found himself scanning the area for Barry. The French man was patting a dude's back whose face was pressed into his shoulder, face scrunched in repulsion. A woman near Owen was leaning in the opposite direction, gagging.

"That's fucking disgusting," she somehow managed. 

Suddenly, all squelching from below paused. The entire assembly seemed to freeze before they all hesitantly peered over the catwalk railing. Staring right back were four vicious raptors, lizard-like eyes trained on Owen, maws doused in sticky, red blood.

"What's- what's wrong?" a 30-something blond asked shakily from the head trainer's left, "Do they not want it?"

Because, indeed, the cow was dead and was cut open, but not a single bite had been stolen from the corpse.

"No," Owen responded, gaze never meeting the wobbly employee's, "They're waiting for me."

He projected his voice then and directed at Blue especially as his beta, "It's okay, girl! I'm gonna sit out on this one."

Delta, Echo, and Charlie waited fretfully for Blue to devour her own portion, but they were well accustomed to the delay.

"They-they were _waiting_ for you?" the nauseous woman from earlier repeated uneasily.

"Yes," Owen answered, not seeing what was so scary about that. "I'm their alpha. I eat first. Or, at least, I should. But I don't really make it a common thing for me to share food with them."

He studied the raptors sawing away, ripping off chucks of flesh and muscle, for a moment longer before relinquishing just as his green eyes were beginning to blur. Owen located Barry once again and called over to him, "Make sure that if the girls don't eat all of it you take the rest of the body out. I don't want any more flies than necessary around here, and I really don't want my girls eating rotten meat."

"Of course, Owen! We'll need to give them a bath later, though."

He sighed. "I know."

* * *

Five minutes into the car ride, Owen cleared his throat uncomfortably, pivoting his body away from the leather upholstery and pulling on the seatbelt.

Claire spared him a glance. "You can undo your buckle if you want, I guess. The only accident we can get into out here is if I hit a tree, and this is a really expensive car."

With perhaps a tad too much eager enthusiasm, he clicked his seatbelt and unfastened it. "Can I roll down the window?"

"No." Claire glanced at him again, irritation lining her brow. "There's mosquitos the size of my hand out here, and, besides, we aren't too far from the park."

Owen doesn't say anything else. He still isn't aware as to why Claire needed him to forfeit his motorcycle and immediately report to the park with her, but he thought he preferred the silence for the moment. Swallowing restlessly, Owen clasped his hands and watched flourishing green disappear from view in the still rolled up window. 

He didn't have _claustrophobia_ , per se, but he certainly had something. Cars were a big no-no for Owen, had been for quite some time. The only reason he didn't protest when Claire ushered him into her vehicle was being she seemed so goddamn nervous. But now he wanted out. Owen's leg began bouncing, and he swiftly lessened its pace lest he be yelled at for shaking the car.

When the pair finally arrived at Jurassic World's main park, he practically threw himself out the car. Claire rolled her eyes at him and led Owen to a nearby café. As they sat down, an anxious tick in the director's jaw started up. 

"Can I buy you anything to drink?" The tick jumped.

"Claire," Owen cut, meeting her eyes to convey his seriousness, "What's this about?"

"Well," she started reluctantly but was saved by a waitress coming over to take their order.

Owen ordered a black coffee just because he was pretty sure he would need it after this conversation. What had happened? Did Hoskins do something? Was he being fired? Was _she_ being fired?

Claire stalled a little longer before gathering her courage into a tightly woven ball of thread and made her proposal.

"You're shitting me right now," was all Owen could manage when she had finished.

"I just figured that with Hoskins out of the way now would be a perfect time!"

"You figured wrong."

"Then when is a good time?"

"Never. I'm eternally busy."

Claire heaved a sigh of aggravation. "C'mon, Owen. Don't be stubborn."

"I'm not taking fucking college interns! I barely even allow the _trained_ employees and interns around my girls. They're dangerous animals, Claire, and having some kids who think they're interested in this field poking around is a recipe for disaster."

"Owen, cut me some slack here! They don't even have to get that close. Barry can help you keep an eye on them. It won't be that bad."

He glared at Claire for too long before grumbling, "How long?" 

"We were thinking a moderation of two months."

"Absolutely the fuck not."

The director scowled at him. "How long do you propose?"

"A week."

"No! Owen, no. They can't learn shit in a _week._ Six weeks.

"Not a chance."

_"Six weeks."_

Owen remained silent, glower firmly set in place. 

"Fine! How long are you willing to do that's _not_ a week?"

"Honestly, I'll do three weeks, top."

Claire exhaled, appearing to regain her calm composure. "Okay. I can work with that. And, when you see that having interns was _not_ a completely horrible experience, they can start coming around longer for their studies."

She offered to drive Owen back to his bungalow, but he dismissed her, and she left with a quiet, humble 'thanks'. Despite the fact that he was irritated as shit with her, Owen could appreciate that Claire understood he didn't like new people, especially when they encroached on his private matters. Mentioning Barry was recognition that he could be allowed to do most of the talking and flashy show-around if Owen so desired. 

When he first signed on for this job, Owen made it very adamant that he didn't want other people potentially messing up the imprinting process between his girls and him. Barry was allowed around, and that was it. Now, the four were very much imprinted on him, but Owen didn't take chances. His preternatural ability permitted his mind to link and bond with the raptors', and other people seemed to interpret that as, 'Oh, they're tamed. I guess these man-eating, sharp-toothed, fatally-clawed, prehistoric beasts are harmless'.

Owen didn't need some arrogant kids on top of that, no thank you.

Why did he even fucking bother at this point?

* * *

"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me." Vic smiled charmingly, grasping the young man's hand. 

He was below average height for a guy, with dirty-blond, spiked-up hair, and critical, brown eyes.

"You offered a lot of money," he responded bluntly, shaking Hoskins's offered hand nonetheless.

Vic ground his teeth a little tighter together. James Capshaw was fucking pompous and aggravating as shit, but he was the best at what he did.

The bell dangling inconspicuously above the door jangled as a brunet with square, black-framed glasses, and icy blue eyes entered the little coffee shop Hoskins had chosen as a preamble to their partnership, already sipping on a fruity looking, pink drink.

"You look like your name would be Victor," Logan Mars said, approaching the newfound duo.

"It's _Vic_." Hoskins fists clenched, face beginning to turn an unflattering red. "But you'll be referring to me as Hoskins anyway."

Logan shrugged, lips finding purchase on his red straw. "I'll probably be calling you whatever I want."

Hoskins was tempted to shove the damn nerds' heads through the wall, the both of them. But if he wanted to frame Claire Dearing and ruin her career, he had to keep the little shits around.

Besides, the only way to Owen Grady and those raptors of his was through.

**Author's Note:**

> ...how was it, darlings? Is anyone interested?


End file.
